Roots
by Tri Lorian
Summary: Snow can be a tricky thing as Lancelot finds out. {Complete}


Lancelot walked back from the horses to the fire where his fellow knights were already drinking and eating. One moment he was walking through the snow, the next he was sprawled face down in it.

Laughter rose up from the fire. "Looking for something, Lancey?" The cheerful voice of Bors reached Lancelot above the rest of the comments.

Slowly the laughter died down as Lancelot didn't make a move to get up.

"Lancelot?" Arthur's voice, with a little twist as though he had hit on the ale heavily already.

Then the crackling of snow as someone was walking towards him.

Lancelot pushed himself up before the person approaching had reached him. He cast a quick glance at the red blood now staining the white snow, before he glared first at the knights next to the fire, and then at Arthur who was standing only a few feet away. If looks could kill, they would have all dropped dead.

Arthur could see the infuriated look in Lancelot's burning eyes. He could also see the gash on his eyebrow that was bleeding freely, the blood flowing down Lancelot's cheek, pooling into his beard.

Without saying anything, Lancelot stomped off. Wincing when he put down his left foot, only barely managing to hold in a surprised yelp of pain. It only worked to anger him more. Angry at his friends for making fun of him, infuriated at himself for tripping over a snow covered tree root and hitting his head on yet another one.

He sat down with his back against a large tree, out of sight for the men around the fire. He brought his hand to his head, and looked at the blood that was now coating his fingers. He sighed in annoyance at his own stupidity and put his head back against the tree, closing his eyes for a second. He could feel his foul mood dissipating already.

When he opened his eyes again, Tristan was kneeling in front of him. Not saying a word, the scout began to take some items out of the saddle bag he had brought with him. He took a bandage and started to clean away the blood that had started to clot around the gash. "We're going to need to stitch this one."

"Wonderful," Lancelot muttered under his breath.

Tristan handed Lancelot a bandage. "Press this against your eyebrow." Pointing towards Lancelot's feet, he added, "How is your ankle?"

"Throbbing."

Tristan nodded. "You sprained it pretty badly from what I could see. Do you want me to take a look at it?"

Lancelot didn't answer, just sort of gestured for Tristan to go ahead with anything he wanted to do.

Gently Tristan removed the heavy boot. Swelling and bruising were already becoming evident on the abused ankle. "I can bandage it for you, but it will probably get more painful when the swelling gets worse. But otherwise you might not be able to walk on it."

"Bandage it."

"Thank you." While bandaging Lancelot's ankle, the softly spoken words reached Tristan's ears. He looked up and saw that all anger had disappeared from the dark knight's face, which looked tired and drawn now.

"Don't worry about it," Tristan answered, knowing the double meaning of Lancelot's last words. All of the knights knew how fast Lancelot's temper could flare up, but also how it died down just as quickly. "Let's get you back to the fire. I can't see enough here to stitch that gash close. And I wouldn't want to accidentally pick your eye out."

A smile flashed over Lancelot's face while he let Tristan pull him to his feet. Gingerly, Lancelot put his weight on his left foot, and immediately felt his leg buckle. Tristan grabbed his arm and draped it over his shoulder to support Lancelot while they made their way back to the campfire.

The chatter from the other knights settled down when the two approached. Galahad stood to make room for both of them by the fire.

When Lancelot had sat down, still pressing the bandage to his head, Arthur was the first to break the silence. "Are you alright?"

Lancelot nodded slightly. "I'm fine."

"Lie back down." Tristan had taken a small pouch out of his saddle bag, and knelt down next to Lancelot once more.

Arthur looked at his scout questioningly.

Taking out a needle and thread from the small pouch, Tristan knew that the answer would be obvious. "The gash is small, but deep. It won't stay close without stitches."

While Tristan held the needle in the fire, Arthur turned his attention back to Lancelot who had indeed laid back obediently. Knowing that what was coming next would be extremely painful, he placed a soothing hand on Lancelot's shoulder. "You could have said something if you were too tired for the first watch," the Roman tried to make light of the situation.

Lancelot grinned back at his commander, but the smile disappeared quickly when he saw Tristan approaching with the red hot needle.

"Ready?"

Lancelot nodded and braced himself. The only sounds that could be heard were the crackling of the fire and the sounds of a couple of playing squirrels. Despite himself and the gentleness of Tristan, Lancelot couldn't suppress a muffled scream when the needle went through his flesh. But then it was over and a steady burning feeling was all that was left.

"One will do."

Lancelot exhaled, having held his breath unconsciously while Tristan was closing the wound. He swallowed a few times against the pain, before he struggled to sit upright. Two pairs of hands assisted him. Galahad handed him a steaming bowl with food, which he took gratefully.

Not long after everything was normal again in the small camp, bantering and drinking heard all around. Or almost normal. Realizing that Lancelot was way too quiet, Arthur sat down next to him. "Are you alright?" he repeated his question from before.

Looking up at Arthur, Lancelot nodded. "Headache. I'll be alright." Returning his attention to the licking flames of the fire, he slumped forward a bit.

Having seen the look in Lancelot's eyes, Arthur realized what was going through his mind. When his best friend opened his mouth to continue, he placed his hand on his shoulder, silencing him effectively. "No need for an apology, Lancelot. If any, we should apologize. We shouldn't have laughed. We wouldn't have, had we known you were hurt. That's no laughing matter."

Lancelot tilted his head and looked at Arthur once more. A crooked grin appeared on his face. "It must have looked quite silly."

Arthur burst out in laughter. "Aye!"

Trying to glare menacingly at Arthur, but failing miserably, Lancelot joined Arthur in his laughter.


End file.
